non omnis moriar
by cherishyourheartache
Summary: He doesn't know why he's so concerned when the shadows creep into those blue, blue eyes. James/Scorpius.
1. Chapter 1

Firstly a HUUUUUUUUGE thankyou to my lovely darling friend Mandals. If it weren't for her this would never have been uploaded because I'm a huge sissy.

**WARNING: **This story contains sexual abuse/allusions to rape, mental illness and possible future references to attempted suicide. Please read at your own discretion.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Harry Potter_.

**~/~/~/~**

**Prologue - He dreams of shadows and green lights**

It's the second week of summer break before fifth year and Scorpius is walking with his mother along their secret path in the meadow not so far from Malfoy Manor when it happens. Scorpius's stomach sinks and his heart hammers as five men, all bearing the same dark tattoo his father and grandfather try so hard to hide, surround he and his mother. Scorpius recognises the harrowed faces of Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange from the family tree his grandmother used to show him and they smile crudely, their rotten teeth appearing more like fangs in the shadows their oily hair create. Before Scorpius can so much as pull out his wand from his pocket, the five Death Eaters are firing hexes and curses and Astoria is barely holding them at bay.

"Scorpius, run! RUN!" She screams desperately. A ray of purple light strikes her in the chest and she cries out, her defensive shields collapsing instantly. Scorpius tries to run but a well-aimed Tarantellegra hits him and his legs are no longer under his control. One of the monsters laughs uproariously and makes his way over to Scorpius, enjoying how utterly stupid he must look.

"What a pretty ballerina!" The Death Eater says, clapping and humming a tune for Scorpius to unwillingly 'dance' to. The other two monsters and the Lestrange brothers turn their attention to Astoria instead.

"Don't touch her! Leave her alone!" Scorpius demands and surprisingly, the four men listen.

"He's right lads," Rodolphus says, leering down at Astoria. "It isn't proper to mistreat a lady as fine as Mrs Malfoy here. What say you, love? Shall we entertain you?"

He doesn't wait for Astoria's response and quickly hits her with a body-binding curse, ensuring that she is facing Scorpius. Tears stream down her face but the spell renders her a silent, unwilling witness.

They start with a standard hex and work their way up from there, systematically breaking ribs and fingers and eventually using full blown Cruciatus curses. He tries not to scream or cry, but eventually it's all too much and he just doesn't bother fighting. He's not entirely sure what they're doing to him anymore or how long they've been at it. The searing pain of the continuous Cruciatuses are beginning to fog his senses and everything is beginning to blur together in a haze of curses and spells and hands tearing at his Muggle clothing. Beyond his own desperate screams he can hear the attackers leering.

"I didn't know Malfoy had a daughter."

"He doesn't, that's the son."

"Ah well, can't let a face like that go to waste, can we?"

Scorpius closes his eyes and tries to block everything out; the rancid, ragged breathing of someone above him, the feel of their rough hands all over him and their invasion. It feels like an age before they seem to be satisfied but Scorpius can't bring himself to feel relief or much of anything, really. He remains unmoving on the wet, overgrown grass, no longer caring about whatever tortures they'll hand out next. Perhaps they'll kill him; at this point death would be a welcome luxury. The spell on his mother must have worn off at some point; she's begging and wailing and he hears one of the monsters demand that she shut up. The monsters congregate and mutter amongst themselves and, for a brief, stupid moment, Scorpius thinks they're finally leaving; that they're finally satisfied with what they have accomplished. Then, all too suddenly, there is a flash of green light and his mother's sobs are silenced. The dull sound of a limp body slumping in the damp grass rings in Scorpius's ears. Scorpius must have said something, must have begged them to kill him too because the monsters laugh, cruel and loud in the otherwise silent meadow.

"And leave nobody to re-tell the story to your father? Not a chance princess."

Scorpius feels the same rough hands from before grope around in the pockets of his ruined jeans, before they find and pull out the slim wood of his wand. The sound of his wand snapping is symbolic really, there is only so much Scorpius can take face-down. He howls, and throws himself in the general direction of his attackers, uncaring if they kill him then and there. He can feel his magic begin to course through him, cracking and distorting and escaping him in potent waves despite no longer having a functioning wand to channel it through. This loss of control suddenly makes Scorpius feel so free and feral and powerful. His magic whispers to him, urging him to seek revenge, telling him that these bastards deserve to pay in any way possible. Scorpius doesn't fight it; he gives in willingly and allows it to take over him, revelling in the darkness that overpowers him and washes his senses away.

**~/~/~/~**

Scorpius regains some semblance of control over his magic at some point and eventually the dark haze clears a little. The monsters are nowhere to be found in the field and he is so overcome with exhaustion that he doesn't even begin to think about how he will make his way home, or if he will even survive through the night. He lies under the starless sky, wondering absently if the sun had still been up before his wand was broken. He lets the reassuring whispers of his magic lull him into a fitful slumber and he dreams of shadows and green lights.

**~/~/~/~**

It's Harry Potter that finds Scorpius half-conscious and wrapped in the arms of his mother, just as the sun is reaching the middle of the sky. "The Fool Who Refused to Die" (as he was dubbed by Scorpius's father) pulls Scorpius from those cold, cold arms and tells him, "Everything's going to get better." Scorpius appreciates that he doesn't say "Everything's okay", because that would imply that the situation right now is okay and frankly they both know it isn't. But despite the comforting words, those infamous eyes are too unsettlingly familiar a green and those unfamiliar arms are holding gripping his aching ribs far too tightly so Scorpius panics; he can't breathe, he can't think, everything just feels broken and invasive and wrong. He can feel his magic coursing through his arms to his fingertips in response to his panic and suddenly there's an explosion nearby. Scorpius screams and so do Harry Potter and a few of the other Aurors who accompanied him. Everyone turns to face Scorpius and he feels shameful even though it couldn't have been him who caused the explosion because he's the top of his class at Hogwarts and he's been doing magic since he was two.

"Scorpius?" Those Avada Kedavra green eyes are focused on him again.

"I don't know. I'm sorry," Scorpius blurts, not bothering to wipe away the tears freely falling from his eyes, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"You're frightened, it's understandable. Sometimes our magic plays up after a trauma. We'll get you to St Mungo's."

Harry places a hand on Scorpius's wrist but flinches away instantly as though he's been burned. Scorpius can feel his magic surge protectively along his left arm, throbbing painfully through the horrible scar burnt into his forearm. He hadn't noticed it before, but as he begins to focus on it he recognises the surprisingly well-drawn and intricate shape of a snake and skull through the layers of dirt and blood. Harry's sad gaze lingers on the mark for a moment, but he seems to shake himself out of it.

"We're just going to Apparate, Scorpius. Nobody is going to hurt you again; you just need to trust me."

Harry tries to touch Scorpius again but he can't quite regain control over the current running through his whole left side.

"I'm sorry. I don't know…I'm sorry."

Harry nods his head in sympathetic understanding and turns from Scorpius. He casts a Patronus and Scorpius listens as the silver stag is instructed to contact Draco Malfoy and alert him that his son has been found. Less than a minute passes before two loud cracks signal the arrival of Scorpius's father and grandfather. Draco ignores Harry Potter's warnings and rushes to Scorpius, hugging him and sobbing unashamedly. Scorpius wonders absently if he should be worried that he can't feel any aching in his misshapen fingers and ribs.

"My son, my life. I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone," he says frantically, weaving his fingers through Scorpius's bloodied, tangled hair.

"I…mum…she's dead...I…they broke me too, dad. I'm broken."

Draco holds him for a long time, pulling away with great reluctance to turn and face a solemn Harry Potter. The two men disappear into their own deep conversation (Harry Potter is doing all the talking, Draco is unspeaking, silently crumbling) and Scorpius is left to himself for a moment. His magic has faded to a dull thrumming in his fingertips and there are whispers in his head that hadn't been there before all of this_. _Scorpius is so exhausted and he can't keep up with himself anymore, so he is relieved when his grandfather comes to hold him; Lucius's presence keeps the shadows at bay for the time being. They stand there, silent and ignored, until one of the Aurors makes a discovery and shouts for Harry Potter. There's confusion and a little bit of panic until something is levitated from the bramble by the field's edge.

"Don't look, Scorpius," Lucius whispers in his ear but it's too late. Scorpius manages to catch sight of the mangled head of the man he only just recognises as the one who had violated him. He wonders who could have possibly killed the bastard, but he doesn't dwell on the thought because his grandfather has him suffocated in the most protective embrace he has ever experienced. Scorpius can feel the shaking of Lucius's shoulders and hears a tell-tale sniff as the grip around his middle is tightened and they spin away to London.

**~/~/~/~**

Two months fly by in a whirl of potions, legilimency and invasive questions from stone-faced Aurors and mediwizards alike. Draco has ruled out returning to Hogwarts for the time being and so when September rolls by, Scorpius is still left in the Janus Thickey Ward with only his father and (more often) grandfather for company. Sometimes he'll pay a visit to poor Gilderoy Lockhart, but the man so often forgets who Scorpius is, and he's ashamed to admit that he doesn't really have the patience to listen to Lockhart's repeated questions and stories. He doesn't receive any letters either; he never really had a close circle of friends at school. His fellow Ravenclaws were far too preoccupied with maintaining good marks or, as Scorpius suspects, were too jealous and caught up in trying to best him in their studies to really befriend him. He supposes they don't really have to worry about beating him anymore; he hasn't so much as touched his new wand, Astoria's first wand that was given to him by his aunt Daphne.

Intentional magic is something Scorpius avoids. He doesn't trust himself anymore. Since the attack, his magic hasn't quite been what it used to. It's still strong and arguably more potent than before but now he is conscious of it flowing beneath his skin, warped and perverse. It constantly plays up, shaming Scorpius to no end. He knows the healers are frightened of him. He sees them flinch whenever he so much as moves or frowns or, Merlin forbid, cries. He can't really blame them though, he'd almost blown up most of the ward when he had argued with Healer Fritz about the peas she tried to force feed him. And he'd almost burnt off half of Healer McDonnel's face when the young healer had walked in too quietly during his midnight rounds and spooked Scorpius half to death. Not to mention the panes upon panes of glass he's smashed simply by coughing, or sneezing, or even while trying to muster a fake smile for Draco and Lucius.

And so, Scorpius is mostly left to his own devices. He dwells far too often on that summer day and is left in the company of his magic for far too long. It whispers and stirs when Scorpius is alone and even though he can't quite understand what it's trying to tell him, he is still left feeling unsettled and out of control. The healers assure him it will all pass given time, that he'll be back to normal soon enough and by October, when it seems his bouts of accidental magic have calmed, they even give him the all-clear to return to Hogwarts. He's doubtful they've made the right choice (and he suspects the healers just don't want to deal with him anymore) but the magic within him pulses in blissful ecstasy at the news and he's learnt to just go with what it wants unless he intends to blow something up or accidentally kill someone.

So while it seems like his magic is on the mend, Scorpius knows his mind is far from healed. He knows the monsters in his mind will still linger because no matter how hard he tries, and no matter how many dreamless sleep draughts he takes, he can still see the shadows and green lights ensnaring him in his sleep, cradling him for an eternity.


	2. Chapter 2

Well that took an awfully long time to update. All mistakes are mine as this hasn't been beta'd so if you spot any, don't be afraid to point them out to me.

Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :D

* * *

First term starts with a flurry of excitement on the Hogwarts Express. Scorpius Malfoy, Ravenclaw's best and brightest, has not returned for his fifth year. James doesn't particularly care one way or another; the boy is in the year below him and frankly, they've never really spoken before. His brother Albus remarks that it's odd but doesn't say anything more on the matter and by the time they've reached Hogwarts and the Sorting ceremony is over, nobody says another word about the missing Malfoy boy.

**~/~/~/~**

Malfoy apparently returns on Halloween night, but James still doesn't really care. His time is taken up by his new status as Gryffindor's new Quidditch captain and arguing with Albus about the importance of putting effort into schoolwork (which ironically takes up time he could be spending doing said work). What looked to be a promising year of excitement to James now seems like a monotonous routine of Quidditch training and screaming matches. He tries to write to dad about his arguments with his younger brother, but the infuriatingly neutral responses he receives do little to help James make sense of what's gotten into Albus. If anything, they only serve to fuel the brothers' disagreements.

After a particularly bitter argument (that starts when James makes the mistake of asking for one of Al's textbooks so he can write his Transfiguration essay due the next morning…again) that leaves Albus almost in tears and James fuming, James decides that walking away would probably be in both Potter boys' best interests. He pushes roughly against the Fat Lady's portrait and dismisses Al's slew of pleas to stay and talk with a particularly brutal "fuck off". He shrouds himself in their father's old invisibility cloak and sinks to the stone floor of the Gryffindor corridor, not really in any mood to go wandering tonight. It's only when she speaks up that James even considers the fact that the Fat Lady has probably heard most (if not all) of their midnight arguments lately and seen James continually hide from his younger brother.

"You two oughtn't be so cruel to one another," she tuts, though she sounds more sympathetic than cross, "poor Albus isn't so laissez-faire about everything like you, not that that's a bad thing love, but the things you say upset him more than it should."

"So you think he's right? You think I don't give a shit about anything either?" He can't help the subtle bitterness that creeps into his questions. It's not that James particularly cares about what the Fat Lady thinks, but a fresh perspective from someone who isn't quite as neutral as his parents isn't entirely unwelcome.

"I wouldn't say that you don't give a –" the Fat Lady catches herself and glares in James's direction, "I wouldn't say you don't care about anything, your Quidditch captaincy shows that you do, but you can be so blasé about everything else and that's what upsets Albus. I think he feels as though you don't care enough about what you do. Or more specifically dear, I think he feels as though you needn't try as hard as he does to get things; things that you're not necessarily interested in but things that Albus may want."

Even though she can't see it, James scrunches his nose in confusion. Albus makes better grades than he does and he has about the same, if not more friends than James.

"So what you're saying is Albus is jealous because he thinks he has to work harder than me? And he thinks that I shouldn't be so complacent and dickish about how he feels?" Anger wells up so suddenly in James that he just barely resists the urge to hex something. "So essentially what you're saying is it's all my fault and Albus has done no wrong?"

The Fat Lady looks dismayed but before she can answer, her portrait is flung open and Albus looks out stonily.

"C'mon James, don't be such a prat. If you can talk to the Fat Lady you can talk to me."

James flees the portrait corridor altogether before Albus has finished his sentence.

**~/~/~/~**

James takes the familiar path to Ravenclaw Tower almost mindlessly. He debates turning around and going back to Gryffindor Tower, ignoring Albus and finishing his essay without the damn text book but he figures he's already here and talking to Rose has always helped him clear his head. He pockets the invisibility cloak and approaches the brass knocker that guards the Ravenclaw common room.

"Two girls were born to the same mother, on the same day, at the same time, in the same month and year and yet they are not twins. How can this be?" The knocker asks.

James considers the riddle for a moment before answering. "I dunno, they're two girls in a set of triplets or quadruplets something."

The door swings open to reveal the Ravenclaw Common Room, which is illuminated brilliantly by the large full moon shining through the large arched windows. James enters and sits by the dying fire, surprised that the common room is completely empty. He glances at his watch: 2:56am. He supposes that explains why nobody is around and he figures Rose wouldn't appreciate being woken up at this hour (not that it's stopped him before, but he's pretty sure she has a test tomorrow) so he settles in, chancing a summoning spell for "Titillating Transfigurations". The book, to James's delight, zooms down from its topmost place on one of the wall-length bookshelves by Rowena Ravenclaw's marble statue and makes a surprisingly loud bang as it lands on his table. There's a startled yelp from an armchair facing the Quidditch Pitch window and a blast of bright purple light that sets the curtains on fire. James is out of his chair and brandishing his wand at the culprit before he remembers foolishly that he isn't in Gryffindor Tower and that technically, he's the intruder. He casts a quick Aguamenti on the curtains as he approaches the armchair, hoping to Merlin that he doesn't find Terrence Smith or one of the insufferable Ravenclaw prefects. He's relieved when he sees a familiar halo of bright silver-blonde hair instead.

"Shit Malfoy, you scared me half to death." James breathes, resting a reassuring hand on the other boy's shoulder. He pulls away almost immediately though, there's a strange energy pulsating through the younger boy that's left James's fingers tingling and his palm a deep red even in the moonlight.

"What the hell? How did you do that?" He frowns down at Malfoy, who is visibly shaking and whose wand is nowhere to be seen.

"You're one to talk Potter," Malfoy's voice quavers slightly and his eyes are a cold, ice blue in the moonlight, "you're not even supposed to be in here. What are you doing?"

James doesn't bother responding. He makes his way back to his table and re-lights the fire, creating enough light to read comfortably in. As he starts to write his essay's introduction, Malfoy pipes up again.

"I deserve an answer. What the hell are you doing here?" He sounds less alarmed than before. James doesn't appreciate the hint of nagging that's slipping into the other boy's tone and he really doesn't have time to argue (or talk for that matter, his essay is due in six hours) so he decides that telling the truth is his fastest way out of this conversation.

"I came to see my cousin, didn't realise how late it was and figured I may as well just finish my work here."

Malfoy seems to accept his answer with little more than a nod. He doesn't ask any more questions; instead he settles himself in another armchair closer to the fire and watches.

**~/~/~/~**

James leaves Ravenclaw Tower at 5:30 before any students, even the Quidditch players, have awoken. Malfoy fell asleep in his chair about an hour or so ago and he doesn't have the heart to wake the boy up. James tries to push away thoughts of those ice blue eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open while he sits in the library scribbling a rather shoddy conclusion. And he certainly tries not to think about the small smile that played at the boy's lips when he had explained what essay he was writing and when it was due as he sips tiredly from his tea in the Great Hall a half hour before Transfiguration starts.

"Don't let me stop you then." Malfoy had muttered sleepily, sighing softly as he burrowed his head in his arms. Even when James had suggested that Malfoy go to bed, the blonde had waved dismissively and continued to watch James's peacock feather quill with those lovely blue eyes.

"I like the sound of a writing quill, it reminds me of when I was young."

James is startled out of his reverie when Albus slips onto the bench beside him. His green eyes are rimmed with dark-bags and he looks just as exhausted as James imagines himself to look.

"Enjoy your little heart to heart with Malfoy last night? Spilling your guts to the Fat Lady not enough for you?" He mutters bitterly as he heaps scrambled egg onto his breakfast plate.

"Sod off, Al," James shoots back, "I barely talked to him. He was just there. And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't stalk me with the map."

"So would I." Albus snaps back. The brothers stare each other down for a moment before Albus lets out a hiss and shakes his head.

"Truce?" James offers a hand, which his brother seizes and shakes firmly.

"Just stop leaving your essays to the last minute asshole, you make the rest of us look bad when you end up getting better marks."

James recognises the resentment behind the joke but he bites back a retort, knowing it'll only lead to yet another argument about responsibility and effort. He'd like to go at least a week without another one of those fights if he can help it. Albus looks unapologetic but he doesn't start another lecture, instead, his gaze travels down James's rumpled robes and back to his face.

"You look like shit, have you even seen yourself?" He says finally. James shrugs and grins.

"Can't look any worse than you."

Just when Albus is about to retort, a fierce looking crow lands on his plate and turns to face James. Al squawks indignantly about his breakfast being ruined, but the crow only sends him a sparing glance before its black stare returns to James. It caws when he doesn't reach for the parchment tied to its leg and just about tries to peck Al's fingers off when he grabs for the note instead.

"Hurry up James! I want this thing to go away, it's creeping me out."

James finally takes the parchment and the crow gives a grateful caw before it steals Al's toast and flies away.

"Stupid bird." He vaguely hears Al mumble as he begins to reload another plate with bacon, eggs and toast. James ignores him. The note is simple and to the point, but the swirling handwriting and initials brings a goofy smile to his face.

_Hope you transfigured that blank parchment into a decent essay.  
__S.M._

"Give us a look!"

James snatches the note away before Albus can reach it. He looks momentarily stung before a sly smile spreads easily across his face.

"Chasing a new skirt are we?" He sniggers when James rolls his eyes but is content with naming random girls without receiving a straight answer. Their easy banter lasts until Albus spies the time and leaves first, spewing some excuse about asking Professor Longbottom some pre-class questions about his Herbology readings. James waves him off and decides he better stop by Gryffindor Tower and at least change his shirt before heading to Transfiguration. He literally bumps into a very familiar blonde on his way out from the Great Hall. Unlike Albus and (he suspects) himself, Scorpius Malfoy looks bright-eyed and well rested, though James knows for a fact he can't have had more than two or three hours of sleep.

"Your crow is a bastard." James says while Scorpius stutters an apology. He looks surprised, before the same small smile from earlier that morning graces his lips, though like before the smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"Vel? He's harmless enough. He just doesn't like it when people touch what isn't theirs"

James flushes guiltily under the younger boy's curious stare though the back of his mind registers that it was Albus who was in the wrong. Then just like that Scorpius's smile fades and he looks away, those blue eyes of his glancing down at his fingers instead. James can't help but follow his stare and notices that the boy's fingers are twitching and clutching at the ends of his uniform sleeves.

"Everything all right?" he asks quietly, aware of the growing number of people starting to flood out from the Hall behind them. Scorpius nods jerkily with little more than a vague "yes, thank you, fine," then brushes past James without so much as a goodbye. James is startled when Scorpius's fingers accidentally brush his own, leaving behind an uncomfortable sense of having been electrically shocked. He attempts to follow Malfoy back into the Hall but is thwarted by his Runes professor.

"Tut tut, looks like someone will be late for class." Professor Jenkins singsongs. He smiles slyly and his grass-green eyes glitter infuriatingly from under his ridiculous long fringe.

"I've got a spare." James lies, but Professor Jenkins loops an easy arm around his shoulder and steers him to the Grand Staircase.

"Nice try Potter, but those bloodshot eyes and rumpled robes tell me a whole other story. I believe it begins with you starting your essay far too late and ends with you not following Mister Malfoy into the Great Hall. And don't tell me you didn't have breakfast because I know for a fact that you did seeing as I saw you." He looks entirely too proud of himself when he says this and then adds for good measure, "You looked peeved with your brother and laughed when a giant crow landed in his breakfast. I hope you two sorted everything out."

"Why the hell were you watching me at breakfast, Jenkins?" James has long since stopped being completely creeped out by his Runes professor, though it doesn't mean the eccentric man has stopped surprising him from time to time.

"Language, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor." Professor Jenkins says far too cheerily. He wiggles his fingers merrily and sends James to change, giving him a signed note that should guarantee "less of a sermon" from McGonagall for being late because "pulling an all-nighter isn't a crime, but not changing afterwards most certainly is, Potter."

**~/~/~/~**

James blames Professor Jenkins when he doesn't see or hear from Scorpius Malfoy for almost a month after that morning, though admittedly he starts to feel a little guilty when he irrationally snaps at the man class after class.

"For the love of the Witch of the West Potter, if it's bothering you that much just write him!" Professor Jenkins finally snaps back when James is spending his umpteenth detention (handed out by Jenkins himself) helping him redecorate his office and classroom. James says that he just might, but doesn't let on that he has no clue who the hell the Witch of the West is. Jenkins already has enough shit to hang over his head and James really doesn't want to deal with more of his odd taunting.

**~/~/~/~**

He never does write to Malfoy and he doesn't really think about it until term one comes to a close. As he sits through the end of term speeches, bored out of his mind, a small paper crane flutters and lands on his empty silver plate. James opens it before Albus or Freddie can reach for it and frowns when he reads its contents.

_So did you?_

He recognises Jenkins's terrible chicken scrawl handwriting and it takes him a moment to remember what the professor is referring to. When he looks up at the Professors' table and shakes his head in answer, he can't help but think that Jenkins looks a little disappointed. And when James glances at the Ravenclaw table and finally sees the enigmatic Malfoy sitting slightly apart from his housemates, fingers twitching their awkward dance like they had a month before, he tells himself that he really isn't concerned when he sees the shadows creep into those blue, blue eyes.


End file.
